


Smoky Haze

by YanYan (ToyaFF)



Series: Nicotine Gum [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Incest, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyaFF/pseuds/YanYan
Summary: There are many wrongs I have committed in my life.
Relationships: Scout/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Series: Nicotine Gum [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692955
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Smoky Haze

There are many wrongs I have committed in my life. Let it be the simplest crimes of blackmail and forgery, to the more heinous crimes of murder and debauchery. Such matters fazed me once upon a time. Now, they have just become the tedium of everyday work.

When contracted by Mann Co. I thought it would help spice things up again, bring the whimsical joy I once felt back into my old bones. It did for a period of time, until I met a certain young man. A troublesome boy, loud, obnoxious, spouting utter nonsense that furthered embarrassed the already embarrassing squad of misfit murderers. He fit perfectly with the rest– only my own wellbeing was different from the norm.

The young man should have not mattered to me, and for some time he did not. As the days went by, I soon noticed the small quirks and similarities of someone I once knew a long time ago. Coincidences were not just mere coincidences though, and some minor poking through disclosed files gave me all the information I needed.

The Scout on my team is my son.

I held my tongue of such secrets, realizing the dangers of them slipping out to anyone, friend or foe. He would be nothing more than just another teammate who I made small banter with.

But– as silly as it sounds– my parental responsibilities were kicking in as more time went on. Soon the talks became lectures of his degrading performance, and sooner they became scoldings on his suicidal tendencies to run headfirst into danger.

“I can’t help that I’m awesome!” The boy would tell me. “I ain’t some coward who needs to stay invisible all the time to get anythin’ done.” And as always, he would find ways to not only praise himself but to put the blame on others.

Courage was not what the boy held, all he held was stupidity!

“Get off my back you old geezer!”

Conversations he knew he would lose ended before even starting, leaving me there, frustrated in my own thoughts.

The frustration of him, my work and my teammates, and even my own smoking had put a strain on my mind, causing spouts of madness like the rest of my comrades. Instead of being a proper father figure, I had become more like a bully, saying childish things about his purity and poking fun on his masculinity.

I remember clenching onto a bloody headset one kill, rambling on about _unicorns_ and _rainbows_ as a way to poke fun at the boy further. This Scout was not even the same person though, and still I wasted precious time making childish remarks. Such foolishness is for me and the boy alone.

Calm and focus was what I needed, and for that to happen I needed to be away from these men and back into normalcy.

So, I took a vacation, returning to society to release some _stress_. It only takes a few sweet whispers and gentle kisses to make any lovely lady fall right into my arms, wishing to be held, wishing for my touch all over them. And what gentleman would I be if I deny the comfort they wished?

My mind must have been distracted still, for at the end we were both left unsatisfied. When it happened again, I feared my age was finally creeping up on me. But the more people I bedded, the more unsatisfied I left each one, I could not help but think the reason was another.

Frustration was replaced with worry, my mind believing terrible things happening to the boy during my absence. Such a young man should not be out in the battlefield, half the weight and muscle of a normal mercenary.

What if he became seriously injured and no one was around to help?

What if he was captured by the enemy, tortured and beaten to the point he becomes unrecognizable?

What if someone needed to relieve some _stress_ and… placed it on the boy?

My stay was for a week but I left four days early. And once I came back I found the boy resting in the commons, chattering to the others and drinking that awful soda he consumed every day. When his eyes met mine, he held a glare of annoyance. My reaction back was an outburst of anger, causing the others to put their stares on me, believing I had become crazed.

I am not crazed! The people I am surrounded are insane!

The boy’s stare was away, muttering words I could not easily hear from afar. I had enough of the public humiliation, retreating back to my room and staying there for the rest of the evening.

Night rolled later that day as I get a sudden knock on my door. As annoyed as it was to have a late-night visitor, I wished not to be rude. I went over and opened the door, caught by surprise for once, finding the boy on the other side.

“Hey, look…” he soon began, unusually quiet. “Sorry for gettin’ on your nerves all the time. I really do appreciate that you’re lookin’ out for my butt. Not many of the other guys do that ‘cause, well, probably ‘cause I deserve it.”

Such apologies were not needed, for most of my prodding was my own niggling. Never once did the boy bother me unless I came to him first, placing unnecessary negativity and strain on his own wellbeing.

My words of forgiveness made him hold a smile, one that was gentle and not complacent. That minor instant of passiveness was a moment where my guard was put at its lowest, only realizing the consequences before they were too late.

My thoughts were… not proper at the time. And my craving was still warm, desperate and needy. It started with a hand on his shoulder, rubbing a thumb gently against it as a form of comfort. But then the motions became more. Soon I came closer to him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, planting a gentle kiss on his hand. It had become so programmed in me– truly, I never meant to do what I did!

The worse part was the look the boy gave, the look of wanting and need. Certain comfort that I could not give– non, an impossibility! Utter vulgarity and disgust! I never wanted such thoughts to be manifested, never wanted this crave urging me on such forbidden fruit.

All I could tell him was my apologies yet again, and that I let a mistake slip by so easily.

The boy got angry.

“Are you just fuckin’ with me?!” He yelled, putting me in a state of shock. The space between us became thin as the boy stomped closer, forcing me to step backwards, not only rudely entering my room now but shutting my door behind him. “If that ain’t your reason for all this, what is?!”

Even now– Especially now, I could never bring up our blood after what I attempted. For once, I am left speechless.

His next action truly startled me as he grabbed a hold of my arms. My reaction back was to pull away, to even shout at him for dirtying my suit up with his grimy hands. All he did was grip his fingers in tighter, pushing me further backwards until my legs hit against my bed and I toppled back onto it, him crashing down on me. We struggled further, swearing out insults, demanding answers neither one gave.

The room once filled with noises was put in sudden quietness, the only sound being the small wet ting of lips puckering together. All I could do was lay there, eyes widen, staring at the sight of Scout laying his lips upon mine.

The boy was reckless in his kissing, letting his tongue brush against my teeth before sliding around the insides of my mouth. The mixture of citrus circled with my nicotine, which surely must have tasted unpleasant to him. Even so, he continued, parting to catch his breath before stealing my mouth again.

What little movements my hands could do were to shift slightly against the mattress, fingers spreading and twitching open and close, wishing to grab onto anything. My legs sprung upward, shaking and sliding against the sheets before rising back up again to press against his waist.

Scout held little muscle or strength, and I was the same. At most I could carry was a small pistol and case, run as fast as my ash filled lungs would allow me to. Scout could wield a multitude of weapons heavier than my own, do majestic feats of parkour that my old self could dream of doing again. Wit and surprise was what I was skilled in most, but the boy had the added power I lacked when caught.

Non, Scout was far from weak, and I had to face the realization in the worse way possible.

Again we parted, taking a moment to breathe. Our stares were on the other, his expression filled with want, and slight regret. I could not tell what Scout was thinking, let alone understand my own thoughts at the moment.

“ _Spy_ ,” the boy whispered, lips pressing on my neck now, body pressed against every part of me. Struggle I had before vanished, and anymore words I wished to spill were placed with my own indecent noises.

Even when the pressures around my arms were gone, my back was still on the bed, letting the boy dirty my suit even further. His hands carelessly ran up my suit, unsnapping the buttons apart and exposing my vest. The boy’s frustration towards clothing was visible, being too impatience to take it off but instead sliding his hands underneath.

The touch the boy gave was something so innocent, so experimental. He rubbed places that sparked dormant nerves, urging my more sensitive ones the fulfillment of touch. This ungodly teasing I have played on many others before, now being condemned on me.

It felt… _good_.

The moments of my pleasures were torn away as I felt _something_ pressing against my thigh. It was his _stress,_ his need for release. My thoughts returned, and the horrific realization slammed into me like an unstoppable train.

Scout is my son.

_Scout is my son!_

My emotions were not in proper control and I started to panic, smashing my hands into his shoulders, telling him to get off, to leave, to just stop and think about what he was doing. My hysterics only made him panic in-turn, pushing me down harder on the bed and clasping my mouth to stay quiet. When I refused to oblige, he strapped off the tie around my neck and shoved it in my mouth.

Actions he committed onwards were hesitant, uncomfortable for not just me but for him. A part of me believed he was still holding some regret, trying to understand what he was doing. That was a mere opinion I held, for I truly had no idea what Scout thought throughout when assaulting me.

I felt his _stress_ push through me.

“Ah, _Spy_ ,” he panted out.

I felt his motions repeat again and again, one long agonizing drag by the next.

“Ah, _Spy_!” The boy cried as his _stress_ finally released.

Even when fulfilled he would not stop, still going when there was nothing left to give. The cloth in my mouth was tossed aside and I felt his lips on mine again, stealing what little oxygen that was able to get through my lungs. And I just take him, his lips, his motions, and all his _stress_.

“ _Jeremy_ ,” his name slipped by my wetted lips. My mind was still in a haze, not understanding the terrible mistake I just spilled, let alone the horrid expression the boy held now.

The blur of my memories fizzled back to reality, and I found myself staring up at the ceiling, my back still on my bed. My eyes went to my clothes, finding my suit and vest draped down my arms, slacks and underwear all the way to my ankles. Pricks of pain sored my body, and I could barely sit up from the bed. Looking down only made me retract away, not wanting to witness the vile liquids running down my thighs.

I look at Scout, finding him sitting on the other end of the bed, almost naked, hiding himself in his arms. Scout was not just a mere boy, but a younger man. In the end, he should have known better– he had to know better. And yet all I could see was a scared weeping child, apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

When I moved, he flinched. Scout looked so scared, scared to see what harm I would commit on him. Non, I would never do such things.

I sat next to him, slowly reaching a hand out, bringing him closer and letting his head lay on my chest. The boy stayed like that with me for some time, his shaking calming, but his tears still falling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry…” he choked, face rubbing deeper into my chest. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

There are many wrongs I have committed in my life. Let it be the simplest crimes of stealing and espionage, to the more heinous crimes of assault and torture. But abandoning my son when he needed me the most was the most unforgivable crime of them all, one I will never be able to forgive myself over.

I am sorry, Jeremy.

And I forgive you.


End file.
